


Falling

by dbw



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2009-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbw/pseuds/dbw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place during and just after the episode <i>The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in Come To Your Sense 23 as "Home" and has been edited just slightly from the zine version. First posted online January 2004

Later he thought how funny it was that he hadn't recognized the feeling. But then, it wasn't exactly the same, was it?

It had started the moment he received the first phone call from Syd Graham, but he'd been too shocked by the call for it to register. Besides, it was so familiar, that feeling. One he'd had so frequently over the past three years that it had become a part of him without his ever consciously thinking about it. Yet, looking back, the phone call was when the falling began.

Falling. It was what he'd felt every time he'd been in danger while working with Jim. The difference was that in all those times he'd known that Jim would be there to catch him, like his own fucking human safety net. No doubt at all in his mind that he'd eventually be caught. None. It was a given that Jim wouldn't let him hit the ground.

Now he was free falling and there was no net in sight. And no matter where he turned or what he tried, it seemed that circumstances were determined to shred any hope he might have had of mending his net, of getting it back up so that he'd know he was safe. That wasn't about to happen this time. He'd never be safe again.

He was falling when he made his decision to call the press conference and the speed of his descent had increased rapidly as he'd approached the podium. A wry corner of his mind had observed that it was a good thing Jim wasn't there to hear the way his heart hammered in his chest. Some might have thought that it was because he was nervous about what he was about to say and do. They'd have been wrong. He was more afraid of his unobstructed view of the ground.

He was mildly amazed that he was still falling when he walked out of the building after having destroyed his life. That he was still above the ground was a bit of a puzzle and he made it all the way out to his car before he realized that he wasn't concerned about the academic future he'd just trashed. That wasn't what hurt the most. No, what mattered--the only thing that mattered--was the destruction of his partnership, his friendship, his future with Jim. But hey, at least he'd given the man his life back. Hadn't he? And in the grand scheme of things, what difference would it make if one Blair Sandburg wasn't going to be a part of the life of one James Ellison? None what-so-fucking-ever. The universe, certainly, would never take notice.

He reached out to open the door of his car and that's when the ground finally rushed up to greet him. Crash and burn, man.

 

~~~~~~~ooo~~~~~~~ooo~~~~~~~ooo~~~~~~~

 

Blair had no recollection of how he made it back to Prospect Avenue. One minute he was opening the door of his car and the next he was closing the door to the loft. Rationally he knew he must have driven there. The route was so familiar and his brain was so full of things that he was trying desperately not to think about that he must have managed the drive on autopilot. It happened to everyone; he understood that. He just hated it when it happened to him.

He stood in the open doorway to his room and stared, slightly bewildered, as if seeing it for the first time. When had he accumulated so much stuff? He knew what he had to do. He'd known from the moment that he'd decided to deny his dissertation, to deny Jim. But he needed a few minutes to fix this place in his mind. It wasn't as though there weren't enough good memories of the loft floating around in his head to last a lifetime. No, it was that he wanted to consciously examine his home in order to be able to recall the most minute detail later, when the time came that he needed something to remind him of why life was still worth living. And he had no doubt that that time would be upon him fairly soon.

Home. There was that word again. It kept popping up at the oddest times. Maybe because he'd never felt like he'd had one before this. He loved his mom; even now he had to admit that he loved her. But, especially now, he could also admit that she'd never really been cut out for motherhood. Oh, he had no real complaints about how he'd grown up. Mostly it had been a blast. Well, except for the home thing. That was the one thing that he'd missed. A home. A place where he'd always be welcomed, where he looked forward to returning, a place where he was wanted.

He shook his head slowly. Honesty time, he thought. It wasn't the loft that was home, it was Jim. Jim who had made him feel welcomed and wanted and needed. The physical location was just the symbol of all that Jim meant to him. Not that he could ever have told the guy that. No, a _place_ was supposed to be home, not a person. So, that's what the loft used to be for him. Right up until Naomi breezed in one afternoon and turned everything upside down with all the best intentions, at least in her own mind. He promptly squelched that train of thought. He wouldn't let himself be mad at her. It wouldn't do any good in any case; Naomi would always be Naomi.

It had become painfully obvious to him over the last few days that it had been inevitable that something like this would happen. Something would have eventually occurred that would make him realize just how wrong he was about everything. That he was still the outsider, the observer, the one who didn't truly belong. That the loft was just another place where someone had allowed him to stay, until he'd outstayed his welcome. Where he was tolerated until it was time for him to move on again.

He swallowed hard and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. He wouldn't give in and cry. Too much to do, he told himself forcefully, and not a lot of time to do it in. He stepped inside the boundaries of his tiny domain and took a deep breath. Personal stuff, like photos and letters, would fit in one small box that he could take with him. Artifacts would have to be carefully wrapped and boxed for storage. His books would go into another box, as would his notebooks and research materials from the sentinel project. His clothes would fit in his large duffel bag. He'd leave the room's accoutrements behind, the wall hanging, the pillows and the rug, as well as the bedclothes. Maybe Jim would leave them up, keep the room from seeming so bare.

He shook his head and tried to make himself start pulling the artifacts down from the walls. After a few moments of standing rooted in the same spot he realized that he just couldn't do it. Every time he told himself to move, he found that his feet simply wouldn't obey him. Except when he decided to turn away and head back out to the kitchen. Then his treacherous body complied with alacrity.

He stood bowed over the island, fingers clenched around the edge of the counter, his body shaking as if grief would tear it apart. A sound that was more than a moan, less than a sob escaped from between his lips. He couldn't do this. Not now. Maybe not ever, if left to his own devices. He should; he knew it. He should pack everything up and get the hell out of Dodge, do not pass Jim, do not collect the remnants of their broken friendship. But he couldn't do it. Maybe he didn't have the moral strength he'd always hoped he had. Maybe he was a bigger coward than he'd feared he was. Or maybe he was just too God damned in love with Jim Ellison to have any choice of leaving at all.

Wait. What was that? Love? He couldn't...he didn't... Oh hell. Blindly he made his way to the couch and dropped onto it like a stone. When had this happened? And why hadn't he realized it before now? He stared unseeing out the balcony windows as he cautiously thought back over the last few years spent in the company of one James Ellison, Sentinel and Detective Extraordinaire, trying to pinpoint exactly when his feelings had changed from friendship to love.

It had been a gradual thing, he realized. No earthshaking revelations for this boy, um uh, no way. Admiration for Jim's sentinel abilities had turned into admiration and friendship for the person behind the senses. And over time, that admiration and friendship had turned into a deep, abiding love for the man. He recognized it now and could only shake his head in wonder. How could he have not seen this? How could he have not known his own heart?

He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly--deep steadying breaths to calm and center himself. He loved Jim. All right, he could accept that. After all, it didn't appear that he had much choice in the matter. His heart had gone right on ahead without his consent and now here he was. And that left him with the burning question--just where the hell was he? He shouldn't stay, but he couldn't leave. Not unless Jim asked him to go.

Jim wouldn't do that, would he? Even through all of this mess he hadn't told Blair to get out or even mentioned the idea that he ought to leave. Not like the time with Alex. Then Jim hadn't asked him to leave either, he'd just packed up Blair's stuff and thrown him out.

Jim was reacting with hurt and anger out of fear, but fear of what? Was it just the revelation of his sentinel abilities? That, in itself, was bad enough. Yet he knew the facts, that Blair hadn't meant for that to happen. Or was it also the fear that since Blair seemed to have his brass ring in his grasp that he would leave? Was it possible that Jim was afraid of losing him?

He rose and wandered over to the balcony windows. How many times had he stood there with Jim and contemplated the view while discussing anything and everything? He cherished all of the moments spent in Jim's company, both the happy and the sad. Boy, he must have it bad if he could even get sentimental over some of the arguments they'd had, he thought ruefully. Still, he wouldn't trade a single moment spent with Jim for anything he could name. And hadn't the press conference shown that? It hadn't been a sacrifice on Blair's part at all, but an offering of love.

He didn't know what the future held for them and he was still falling without a net, but Blair wasn't a quitter. He'd face Jim and hope that the recanting of his dissertation would make a difference. Whether Jim could love him in return wasn't as important at the moment as whether Blair would still be allowed to be part of his life. So long as he could remain with Jim, Blair would trust the future to work itself out.

 

~~~~~~~ooo~~~~~~~ooo~~~~~~~ooo~~~~~~~

 

"Ready to get busy?" Jim asked, a gleam in his eyes.

Blair nodded. His heart was considerably lighter than it had been only minutes earlier. The news that both Simon and Megan were going to recover was a relief. And now Jim had just told him in typical Jim fashion that he understood what it had cost Blair to deny his work. With his simple question he'd let Blair know that he was still needed.

He trailed after Jim out of the hospital and climbed into the truck, sitting in easy silence beside his friend for the first time in days. The ride to the station was quick and they were there before he knew it. He wasn't sure what his reception in the department would be, but Jim didn't let him brood about it long enough for it to be a problem--he just got out of the truck and waited for Blair to join him, then headed for the elevators.

They stood outside Simon's office with Joel and listened to Bartley rant on the phone about the setup for his rally. Blair winced at the strident tone of the man's voice. "Is it just the acoustics in there or does everybody behind that desk automatically get loud?"

Jim's phone rang. "Ellison. Yeah...you sure about that? Uh-huh. All right. Thanks." He glanced at Blair. "That was the coroner's office. They got a positive I.D. on the body at the hobby shop. It was the owner, Roger Haber."

Blair held up his hands and retreated a step. "Oh man, I'll tell you what, I volunteer _not_ to be the one to tell Bartley that his rally's off."

"Yeah. That'd be me." Jim grimaced and headed for Simon's office.

Blair sighed and perched on the corner of Jim's desk. He really hoped that they'd catch Zeller soon. Until the craziness died down there'd be no chance for the two of them to talk, something that he knew they both needed. He didn't want there to be any misunderstanding about his place in Jim's life. Not that he intended to tell Jim about his little epiphany. And not that he hadn't basically understood what Jim had been trying to say at the hospital earlier.

No, the problem was that, for once, Blair needed to hear the words. He needed for Jim to tell him that he wanted him to stay. He'd always accepted that Jim found it easiest to express himself with touches and jokes, but this time Blair was going to insist on what _he_ needed--straightforward words that would banish his doubts.

His reverie was shattered by Jim shouting, "Get down! Get down!" The sound of automatic gunfire propelled him off the desk and onto the floor. What the hell was going on? He glanced around wildly, looking for Jim, and saw Zeller enter the bullpen carrying two machine pistols, a crazed expression on his face.

"Shit! Joel get down!" He dove at Joel and tackled the big man to the floor, rolling him behind the relative safety of a desk. He flinched at the sound of bullets connecting with metal, glass and wood and he tried to shove Joel further under the desk, automatically shielding as much of the man's exposed body as he could with his own.

When the firing stopped, Blair heard the sound of footsteps running out of the bullpen and he tried to listen for the direction they took. A grunt and a shove from Joel reminded him that there were others in the room who might be hurt. He climbed to his feet and held out a hand to help pull Joel up.

"You all right, man?" Blair peered up at him in concern.

"Yeah Blair, I'm fine." Joel glanced around at the devastation with a frown. "You see Jim anywhere? Or Zeller?"

"I think I heard Zeller run out of the bullpen. Jim's probably following him." He rubbed his hands on his thighs and bounced nervously on his toes, anxious to chase after the Sentinel. "Can you handle things here? I need to go find Jim."

"Go. We'll be all right." Joel smiled slightly. "You go help him."

Blair nodded and ran out of the bullpen, concentrating on figuring out where they'd gone. A glance at the elevator revealed that it was stopped at their floor, its doors wide open. That left the stairs. He sprinted for the door. Up or down? There was no way to tell, but on a hunch he headed for the roof.

The maintenance door was propped ajar and Blair eased his way through it, being careful not to allow it to close behind him. As he turned the corner of the access corridor he saw Jim sprawled on the concrete, holding his leg, and he rushed to his side.

"Jim, are you all right?" His eyes widened at the blood coating Jim's left hand.

"Stupid bullet ricocheted and got me in the leg. I'll be all right. Zeller went over the edge."

"No shit."

"No, I mean he really went over...just help me up, okay?" He reached out for Blair's hand.

Blair slid his arm around his waist and pulled Jim's arm over his own shoulders. "That's it. Lean your weight on me."

"Come on Chief, we need to get over to the ledge there."

Together they managed as quickly as they could, with Blair supporting as much of Jim's weight as the man would allow. A cable connected to a winch was stretched taut over the side of the building. They leaned over the ledge to see Zeller hanging from the cable, staring up at them.

For an instant all of the pain of the last few days was distilled in Blair's perception of the man suspended below them. "So, what are we going to do? Pull him up or knock him off?" Before Jim could respond to his odd quip, Zeller pulled out a gun and aimed it at them.

"Look out!" Blair jerked Jim back from the ledge as Zeller pulled the trigger.

He heard the shot and an odd sound that was a cross between a ping and a ricochet and then a drawn out scream. Cautiously they peered over the ledge in time to watch Zeller fall to his death. Blair swallowed heavily and turned away, snaking his arm back around Jim's waist.

"Oh man, I didn't really mean it when I asked if we were going to knock him off, you know?" The thought nauseated him.

"I know, Chief," Jim replied softly.

"You ready to go get patched up?" Blair glanced up and blinked at the unexpected emotion he saw in Jim's eyes. "Jim?"

"Blair, I--" Jim's leg buckled beneath him, nearly sending the two of them sprawling.

Blair eased him down the rest of the way until he was sitting on the roof. Jim's pant leg was dark with blood. "Damn it! I thought you said you were okay. Look, you sit here, all right? I'm gonna go get the EMTs and bring them up to you."

"It looks worse than it is. Really, Chief." Jim grasped his arm. "Come on, help me up again. I just put too much weight on it, is all. I'm not going to sit up here when I can make it off the roof if you'll help me."

Blair closed his eyes and shook his head. There were times the man could out-stubborn a mule when he wanted to and it looked like this was going to be one of those times. Arguing would just delay getting Jim's leg treated. He clasped his hands around Jim's arm and hauled him to his feet.

Suddenly suspicious, Blair narrowed his eyes and glared at him. "Where have you got the dial set?"

"What?" Jim tried and completely failed to look innocent.

"The pain dial, Jim," he said in exasperation, "where is it set?"

"Oh, uh, one?"

At least he had the decency to look embarrassed, Blair thought. "Crank it up at least one notch. That's probably part of the reason your leg collapsed like it did. You weren't aware of the problem because you couldn't feel it." He watched as Jim concentrated for a moment and faint lines of pain appeared around his mouth and eyes. "I know it hurts more this way, but it's best in the long run. Put as much of your weight on me as you can. That's it. We'll take it slow." Together they headed for the stairs.

 

~~~~~~~ooo~~~~~~~ooo~~~~~~~ooo~~~~~~~

 

Blair stepped into Simon's office and glanced around slowly. He hadn't minded packing his office at Rainier. There'd been an unexpected freedom in knowing that he wouldn't be returning. The University had been his shelter for years and his memories of most of that time were relatively happy ones. Lately, though, he'd found little joy in the time he spent there. The incident with Brad Ventriss had merely been the last in a series of disillusionments and the fiasco over his dissertation had been the topper on the cake.

But what he felt while standing in Simon Banks's office was at the opposite end of the spectrum from what he'd felt at leaving Rainier. This wasn't a feeling of freedom, but a bittersweet grief strong enough to make his stomach clench and put a lump in his throat. Three years earlier when he'd naively accepted the roll of watching Jim's back he'd never thought that this was the place where he'd end up feeling the most comfortable. He'd assumed that he'd do his research and go back to his world of academia with a few wild stories to tell about the time he rode along with a cop. He smiled briefly. Who would've guessed that he'd become addicted, not only to the ride, but to the cop as well?

"Hey, Blair. What are you up to, man?"

He glanced at Joel standing in the doorway and smiled sadly. "Just taking a last look around."

"Last look? Are you going somewhere?" Joel frowned.

Blair swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I cleaned out my desk over at Rainier. I thought I'd do the same thing here. I'm a fraud, man. I don't think Simon's going to want me hanging around."

"Sandburg, that is not your office," called a familiar deep voice.

He walked out to the bullpen and his eyes widened. "Simon? Hey, they let you out already?" He smiled at the big man sitting in a wheelchair.

"Don't let him fool you, Chief. They threw him out." Jim leaned on his cane and smiled.

"They didn't throw me out. They said I was too cantankerous." Simon raised his eyebrows as if surprised someone could think that about him.

"You?" Jim asked facetiously. "No." He shook his head as if in disbelief.

"Speaking of being thrown out," Blair said and squinted at Jim. "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to stay off your leg as much as possible? And why didn't you call and let me know you wanted to come down here so I could come pick you up?"

Jim held up his hand. "Whoa, Chief. The Doc said that my leg had improved enough so he didn't see a need to keep me cooped up any longer. And when I found out Simon was being released, well, I figured I'd just grab a ride with him."

"Uh-huh." Blair raised an eyebrow.

What with Jim's injury and Naomi still staying at the loft, the chance for that talk hadn't materialized yet. He had a feeling that Jim was becoming as frustrated about that as he was. Every once in a while he'd catch Jim watching him with an odd look in his eyes, but Naomi had already been witness to far too much of their private interaction and Blair wasn't about to add to what she'd already seen.

"Hi sweetie." Naomi pushed forward to hug him.

"Mom? What are you doing here?" He glanced around at the others in confusion. It seemed like just about every one of his friends from Major Crime was there as well.

"I wouldn't miss this occasion." Naomi smiled and shifted back to stand beside Megan.

Blair smiled. "Everybody's here and getting healthy. Can't ask for more than that."

"There's a reason why I asked everyone to show up today, Sandburg." Simon shifted his bulk in the wheelchair. "I understand you have some time on your hands. I know you gave up your job at the University and I saw you in my office. We figured you needed something to keep you out of trouble."

"You're finished in this department, Chief," Jim said solemnly.

Blair's heart sank to his toes and he fought to keep his voice steady. "Yeah, well I figured that--"

"As an observer." Jim smiled and tossed a small leather wallet to him.

"What's this?" Blair frowned and opened the wallet. "This...this is a detective's badge. I don't deserve this."

"No. You don't," Simon said and, with a glare at Jim, snatched the badge out of his hands. "At least not until you test out of the Academy and take firearms training. Then, it seems that Detective Ellison here is looking for a permanent partner."

He blinked and glanced at Jim who had a wide smile on his face. "Yeah?"

"Whaddaya say, Chief?" Jim asked as he edged closer to Blair. "Want to make it official and permanent?"

"Say something, Sandy," Megan urged.

Blair bit his lip and then smiled. Raising his hands, he said, "I'm still not cutting my hair."

He was surprised when Jim hooked the handle of his cane around his neck and gently pulled him into a headlock. While the others laughed as his friend mocked the shearing of his locks, Blair leaned into Jim's embrace. Even offered in jest, the man's touch had the ability to warm him. He could be forgiven for taking what comfort he could get, couldn't he?

Rhonda brought out a tray of cookies and a fresh pot of coffee and the group enjoyed a few minutes of relative peace in each other's company. Blair stood off to one side, coffee mug in hand, and watched his friends. Jim and Simon were deep in discussion about something on the other side of the room. Henri, Megan and Rafe were telling a story to an obviously bewildered Rhonda. And Joel was standing quietly next to him, smiling gently every time Blair turned his way. His mother approached, a smile on her face.

"Mom? You knew about this?"

"Of course." She hesitated. "Jim and Simon wanted to make sure that I understood what was going to happen."

He raised an eyebrow, unsure of just what she meant.

"Blair, sweetie, I wanted to say good-bye."

"Good-bye?" He frowned. "I thought you were planning to stay awhile." The unsaid _this time_ hung in the air between them.

"I was. But I got a call from Charlie. You remember Charlie Spring, don't you, Blair? Well, he called and wants me to join him in Arizona. He said that he needs my positive energy. So, I thought that I'd visit him." She glanced over at Jim and Simon. "Besides, I think you could use some time alone. Or at least, without me underfoot." She smiled and engulfed him in a hug.

Blair kissed her cheek and then watched, bemused, as she said her good-byes to the others. As the door to the bullpen swung shut behind her, his eyes were drawn to his partner. Jim was watching him, that same odd look in his eyes that he'd been noticing for the last few days. He shivered slightly, wondering just what it meant.

"You all right, Blair?" Joel asked softly.

He turned and smiled. "Yeah, Joel. I'm great."

"You know, we're all behind you getting your shield." He smiled. "Man, you've been a cop in every way except officially for a long time now. We couldn't ask for a better addition to the department."

"Thanks, Joel. That means a lot, coming from you."

"I'm serious, Blair. It's not just Jim and Simon and me. It's everyone that's worked with you." He quirked his lips and glanced at Jim. "And we are detectives, you know. Some of us are actually pretty good at adding up the facts."

"Joel--"

"It's not something you have to worry about. I just thought you should know." He smiled and ambled off to join the group standing around Rhonda's desk.

Blair stared after him dumbfounded. It looked like he didn't have to wonder any longer about just how much they'd fooled their friends. He glanced back at Jim to see if he'd overheard their conversation and frowned. Jim was listening to something Simon was saying, but Blair didn't like the lines of pain that were etched on his face. Taking a deep breath, he strode over to the two of them, ready to have to cajole his Sentinel into agreeing to head home. His Sentinel. He smiled to himself. He usually wasn't one for being possessive, but he sure liked the sound of that.

"You ready to go home, Jim?" He tried not to look too surprised when Jim nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, Chief. My leg is killing me." He grimaced. "Guess I overdid it a bit."

"Uh, yeah, seems like it." Blair smiled at Simon. "Thanks, Simon. For everything."

"You're welcome, Sandburg." Simon narrowed his eyes. "You know, pretty soon you'll have to call me Captain like everyone else. You think you can handle that?"

Blair grinned. "I can handle it...Sir."

"Sir." Simon smiled broadly and glanced up at Jim. "I think I'm going to enjoy this."

"Come on, Chief. Let's go before he starts making all of us call him Sir."

"You got it." Blair sketched a brief salute at Simon and chuckled all the way to the elevator.

 

They made it to the loft in one piece, though Jim did have some trouble folding himself into the Volvo's front seat. By the time they got home, Blair could tell that Jim was really hurting and he made a bet with himself that he was having trouble controlling the pain dial. He waited until they'd made it upstairs and through the front door before saying anything.

"Go sit on the couch, Jim. I'll be there in a minute and help you prop your leg up."

"Okay, Chief."

Blair frowned at the fatigue in Jim's voice. Must be feeling even worse than he'd suspected, he thought. He opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, picked up the aspirin and double-checked the expiration date. On his way back to the living room he grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge.

Jim sat slumped on the couch, head back and legs extended, his eyes closed. A slight frown marred his forehead. Blair stood quietly in front of him for a moment, not really thinking of anything, just watching his friend. Jim's eyelids fluttered open and he smiled as he focused on Blair.

"Hi," he said softly.

Blair blinked. "Uh, hi yourself." He held up the aspirin and the water. "Thought you might want this."

Jim reached for them and nodded. "Good idea."

"Let's get you comfortable, okay?" Blair pushed the coffee table closer to the couch so that more of Jim's leg would be supported and then he placed a pillow on it. "I'll help swing your leg around so you can put it up here. I think if we can get it elevated and take some of the pressure off, you'll start to feel a bit better."

He put his hands under Jim's calf and knee and helped him position his leg on the pillow. Jim shifted slightly on the couch, making adjustments until he was satisfied. He downed a couple of aspirin and handed the bottle back to Blair to set on the table.

"Thanks, Chief. That feels much better."

"Still hurts, though, huh?" Blair cocked his head and regarded him closely.

Jim nodded.

"Let's take a stab at getting your pain dial under control." He walked around behind the couch and placed his hands lightly on Jim's shoulders. "This'll help you relax the tension in your neck and shoulders and that should make it easier for you to concentrate." He started a gentle, stroking massage. Nothing deep, just an encouragement to the muscles to relax. When Jim's head started to droop forward a bit, he smiled.

"That feels great."

"It's supposed to, man," he said softly. "You should be able to visualize your pain dial now, Jim."

"Uh-huh."

"You know what to do," he continued in the same quiet voice. "Turn it down so the pain's bearable, but not enough that you can't feel anything."

Jim took a deep breath and sighed.

"Feeling better?"

"Much," he replied emphatically. He dropped his head back and smiled up at Blair. "Come on and sit down. I'm good. Thanks."

"My pleasure." Blair walked around the end of the couch, intending to sit across from him on the love seat, when Jim leaned over and grabbed his hand. "Jim?"

"Do me a favor and sit over here, would you, Chief?"

"Sure, if that's what you want." He raised an eyebrow, puzzled at the request, but willing to go along with it. After all, it wasn't like sitting next to Jim was a hardship, he thought somewhat ruefully. He was surprised, though, when Jim continued to hold onto his hand after he sat down and he glanced up at him wide-eyed. "Uh, Jim? Man, you're, like, holding my hand. What's up?"

Jim was staring at his hand as he held it in both of his. He was silent for so long that if it wasn't for the fact that his thumbs were moving, rubbing gently over the back of his hand, Blair might have thought that he'd zoned. What was going through his head, he wondered? Jim obviously had something important that he wanted to say and Blair knew that they needed to talk. In fact, he'd been hoping for an opportunity like this for days and yet, now that it might happen he found himself suddenly wondering if that old saying was going to turn out to be true. The one that started with _be careful what you wish for..._

Jim seemed fascinated by the movement of his thumbs, not looking up as he spoke. "I just wanted you to know," he said softly, "that it's your decision to make about Simon's offer. I'd understand if you didn't feel that becoming a detective was what you wanted to do."

Blair studied his face. So many people glanced at Jim and saw a stereotypical stone faced cop and never bothered to really look further. If they had they'd have observed a hundred different expressions. Right now, what Blair saw was a mixture of vulnerability, fear and hope. He just wasn't sure what to say to him.

"Jim," he said, then hesitated.

Jim raised his head and gazed at him and Blair's eyes widened at the emotions swimming in those pale blue depths. Suddenly, there wasn't any question of what he wanted. Jim truly had been right when he'd told him that he had that brass ring. Now he just had to summon the courage to reach for it.

"I can't think of anything I'd ever rather do than be your partner."

"God Chief, I'm glad to hear you say that."

The smile that crossed Jim's face took his breath away. He'd been blind to his own feelings for so long, was it any wonder that he'd been just as clueless about how Jim felt? Some observer he was, he thought wryly. He slowly reached up with his free hand and trailed his fingers gently down Jim's cheek, watching with satisfaction as Jim's eyes widened.

"You didn't really doubt that I'd want to stay, did you?"

Jim shook his head in a tiny motion and grinned. "I kinda thought, after the, uh, press conference, that maybe I'd been wrong about things." He sobered. "Okay, I _knew_ I was wrong. About a lot of things. But I was afraid you'd think that you needed to do something else, something foolishly noble like taking off so people would have to believe that what you'd said about your dissertation was true. I figured that we needed to give you an option, something that would convince you to stay. I don't want you to go, Chief."

"Why?" This was it, he thought, his mouth suddenly dry. This was the moment that would define their future together.

Jim took a deep breath and then said softly, "I love you, Blair. I...I've been fighting it, denying it, for so long now because I knew you didn't feel the same way. But after what you did, I started to think that I was wrong about that, too. That maybe there could be something more than just friendship between us. Only, to have the chance for us to find out, well, you need to _be_ here." He shrugged helplessly.

Blair closed his eyes. This was what he'd wanted to hear, so why was he so nervous? Couldn't have anything to do with the fact that he'd screwed up every other relationship he'd ever been in, could it? Or that the last few months had been so confusing that he was afraid of making a wrong move? Or that he'd simply never done this before, how about that one? And then there was the fact that he loved Jim so much it hurt. His eyes flew open as he felt Jim's hand caress his cheek.

"I can hear the wheels grinding away in there." Jim smiled. "It's okay, Blair. Don't worry this to death, just tell me how you feel about it."

It was the concern in Jim's voice that broke him out of his frozen state and he blurted out, "I love you."

Jim placed his other hand on Blair's cheek, framing his face. Slowly he drew closer, gazing into Blair's eyes the entire time. He stopped when he was inches away and breathed, "Okay?"

Mutely, Blair nodded.

Jim closed the distance between them and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, just the briefest brush of his lips, and Blair was surprised at the warmth that curled in the pit of his stomach from it. More, he thought. He wanted more and he wasn't going to wait for Jim. He grabbed Jim's shirt with both hands and pulled him close, eagerly meeting his mouth. When he felt a lick at his lips, he parted them and welcomed Jim's thrusting tongue with a heartfelt moan. Vaguely he was aware of Jim's hand tangling in his hair and cupping his head. One of his hands found its way around Jim's broad back, trying to hold him even closer. The kiss was hot and sweet and he lost himself in the joy of it. God, he thought, he never wanted it to end. Sooner than he would have liked, they both pulled back, panting slightly.

"I love you, Chief. Never doubt it." Jim cupped his cheek and tenderly rubbed his thumb over the thin skin under Blair's eye. Hesitantly, he asked, "Have you ever been with a man?"

Blair shook his head. "I've wondered what it'd be like, but I've never met anyone that I cared for in that way that made me want to do more than just look. No matter what some people might think, I've never really been much into experimentation just because I was curious." He lowered his eyes. "I grew up watching my mom go from relationship to relationship, person to person, following what felt good at the moment. It was the all right for her, but I could see what it sometimes did to the ones she left behind. I just couldn't do that to someone, you know?"

"Blair?"

He looked up and smiled. "Yeah?"

"We'll take it slow, Chief. We don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable with. We're going to be all right, you know." Jim made it a statement.

He nodded and sighed. "Oh yeah. We're gonna be so all right that they'll have to redefine the phrase."

Jim gave him his sweet smile, the one that made his insides melt and his heart race. "I'm still not feeling a hundred percent, Chief, and I don't know just how much moving around I can do right now, but I'd love to be able to stretch out on the bed and hold you. How's that sound?"

"That sounds like heaven." He rose from the couch and helped Jim lower his leg and stand up. He slid his arm around Jim's waist. "Lean on me, okay?"

"I always have, Chief."

Blair smiled up at him. Slowly they climbed the stairs and then playfully helped each other strip down to their tee shirts and boxers. They climbed into the big bed and Blair snuggled up against Jim's side, his head resting on his shoulder. He smiled as he felt Jim plant a kiss on the top of his head and then he surprised them both by yawning. He hadn't thought he was that tired, but guessed that the emotional shifts of the day had wrung him out. As he slowly drifted off to sleep, Blair realized that he was no longer falling. Miraculously, he felt like he was finally home, standing with his feet planted firmly on the ground, next to Jim, right where he belonged.


End file.
